Forget Me Not
by Elodie the Scribe
Summary: On the night he disguises hostages as his minions and pits two ferries against each other, the Joker gets a very unlikely visitor...


The Joker was…bored.

His minions were getting the captives ready for Batman—taping the masks to their faces, the guns to their hands. At first, the thought of Batman's shock and terror when he realized it was a civilian he'd killed, _not_ a minion, delighted him. But now in the lull before the masked hero arrived, nothing was happening.

One of Gambol's Rottweilers came up and nosed his gloved hand. He cast a fleeting glance down at the dog, then absentmindedly patted it on the head. Dogs? He liked dogs. They weren't hypocritical and delusional like humans. And the way they killed, tearing and shaking their victim, was a glorious sight to see.

Eventually the dog sat down beside him, just as bored as he was. _Where was Batman?_

And then, the dog's mood changed, dramatically. It shot nimbly to its paws and whirled around, smooth fur bristling. A deep and rumbling snarl akin to thunder emitted from its chest, and it pulled back its curved lips to reveal its long, sharp teeth. It could smell something. Or someone.

Turning around as well, the Joker stared into the darkness of the room. "What is it, boy?" he asked, and grinning, added, "Did Timmy fall down the well?"

The dog let out a single, hoarse bark that echoed in the utter stillness of the room. That was when he heard it—a high yelp. From behind a shadow across the room, there was a flash of light-colored hair. A giggle escaped the Joker. "It seems we have a visitor," he purred. "Go get 'em, boy!

The Rottweiler shot off, moving surprisingly fast for a large dog. Soon another cry joined the first, and then came words. "No! Get _away_!"

Ah. So it was a _girl_. Delightful.

Still smiling, the Joker stalked amongst the shadows objects of the rooms until he found said girl, cornered by the Rottweiler. For a moment, he was curious as to why the dog was barking at her, but not attacking; wasn't that was it was trained to do? But he forgot everything upon seeing the girl. She was quite young, possibly a college graduate, with pretty long blonde hair and big, dark brown eyes. He cocked his head and his smirk widened at her terrified look. "Well, well, well. Hello, gorgeous."

The girl stared. "Um…h-hey?"

He laughed at her meekness, coming closer. "Now what's a cute lil' thing like you doing in a dark, scary place like this? You're very far from home."

"Not really," the girl replied. "I'm _always_ home."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Right. Well. Changing the topic to more important things—like me. Wanna know how I got my scars?"

He didn't know why, but suddenly the fear drained out of her face, and was replaced by grief. Did she actually _pity_ him? He scowled at the very thought. He didn't need some whiny, weak little girl's _pity_. And then she said, "I all ready know that story."

"Oh, do you?" he sneered. "It seems many of sweet little girls like you did before they died. Something about 'relating' to me."

He came closer still, scowl changing to a sudden, hideous smile as he swiftly grabbed her forearm and pressed his knife to the corner of her pink lips. "Tell me, then."

Still no fear showed on her face. Not a hint of panic or even anxiety in her chocolate eyes. Then she spoke. "Once upon a time…there was a handsome college student. So handsome, nearly every girl on campus wanted him. He was handsome in the old-fashioned 'bad boy' thing, you know?"

His lip curled—the Joker could all ready tell this story would be boring. The girl would probably be dead before she finished.

"But—but then there was a freshman that this boy really, really liked, because of all the girls, he thought she was the prettiest. And of course, the girl was _so _happy he'd chosen her out of all the rest. She was so proud to walk around with her arm linked around his. She was an _idiot_."

Immense regret flashed in her eyes then, and as she continued, her voice softened. "Then barely a month in the relationship, he…he did something terrible to her. You see, he thought that he owned her, and, and that if she didn't _want_ to have sex with him, it didn't matter. S-so, he—he raped her."

Psh. Nice twist, but _still_ just like the others, the Joker thought.

"She told a friend, and the friend told a professor. The boy was arrested, but the girl still suffered. Not only couldn't she believe what he had done to her, but only a week after the ordeal, she f-found out she was pregnant with his child. Of course, her family insisted she couldn't have the baby. 'It'll be just like its evil father,' they all said. The girl's mother even tried to sign her up for abortion without her consent."

Something, far away in the Joker's memory, twitched…but just barely.

"But the girl knew it was the right thing to give birth to the baby and raise him and love him. So she did. All throughout the college years, she had a little boy, and she named him…Jack."

The knife at her mouth lowered a centimeter, but only for a split second.

"Then, a few months after graduation, something terrible happened. The house that the girl and Jack lived in caught on fire."

Flames everywhere, stinking up the living room, terrified screams coming from upstairs—vague but fevered images flashing into the Joker's head…

"Jack was able to escape. But his mommy didn't make it. She died."

Mommy?

"Afterwards, the girl's family didn't want anything to do with him. They even accused him of starting the fire that killed her. And so they shipped him off to an orphanage, far away across the country. They never spoke of him again."

"How did you come up with this?" he demanded, but she didn't stop.

"At the orphanage, the children and overseer were cruel to little Jack. They teased and bullied him all the time, and poor Jack, he never had the courage to stand up for himself. Then came the day one little boy went too far, and Jack snapped. He attacked him, and—and by the end of it, the little boy had been killed. The overseer instantly sent Jack off to a mental asylum, where things were even _worse_."

"SHUT UP!" the Joker shouted, and the ferocity of his voice surprised even him.

"But there was one nurse there who was very kind to him. A pretty little thing that reminded him a lot of his mommy, and he missed his mommy. So the nurse helped raise him in that asylum. And always, _always_, she tried to make him laugh, make him smile. Her methods usually worked."

The girl's voice cracked. "And then—the nurse died, in a terrible car accident on the way to the asylum. Jack was shocked. First his mommy, and now the nice nurse? He wanted to remember both of them—somehow, someway. S-so he took a knife and—"

Tears choked her off, and she could only gesture helplessly to her face, drawing a smile with her trembling finger.

"Who are you?!" the Joker growled.

"You know who I am," she said. "You've always have."

And that was when terrible burns appeared on her face in red, blotchy patches. It was the same burns she had received when she had died, screaming, in her bedroom.

She looked him in the eye, her own watering. "Hi, baby."

The Joker stepped back, struggled to repress his shaking. "You—you—you aren't real."

"I am. You know that," his mother told him gently.

"Why are you here?" he snapped. "You _can't_ be here!"

"I've always been with you. I watched over you from the very minute my soul left my body," she whispered. "Oh, Jack, I could hardly bear it, watching all the horrid things that happened to you. I ached to help you, I tell you how much I loved you, but I was only a spirit. I could do nothing."

He turned abruptly away. "Then how come I can see you _now_?"

"It takes a while to master the skills to do this. I don't have much time left," his mother replied. "I…I only wanted to tell you that—I'll always be with you. And I'll always love you."

"After all these years, _that's_ what you have to say?"

"Of course. I'm your mother. I'm supposed to love you forever."

_Forever_.

"You're not real. Can't possibly be real. You're dead," he snarled, more to himself than her.

"I have to go now," she said. "Good-bye, Jack…it—it was so nice to talk to you again."

Then there was silence.

For a few minutes, the Joker was utterly still, becoming part of the shadowy room. Then he came to himself and moved back to the window. But as he stood there, he realized that in his opposite hand, the one he had grabbed her with, was holding something.

It was a flower with a pale blue petals and a gold and indigo core. He identified it instantly.

It was a forget-me-not.


End file.
